


Sammy's Clothes

by Tarvok



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossdressing Sam, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loving Dean, Loving Sam, M/M, Parent Dean, Sibling Incest, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarvok/pseuds/Tarvok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope and comfort and safety can sometimes come from unexpected places. This is a story of Sammy and his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sammy's Clothes

By Tarvok

 

John and Bobby had finished salting and burning the corpse of one Arthur Sandan, a victim of a local arsonist, whose ghost tried to roast his own surviving tween daughter and widow. John was inside with Sammy, talking to the widow, Sarah, while Bobby was waiting outside by the Impala with Dean.

Missy, the thirteen year-old daughter, came out the side door by the garage, and was walking out toward them with a couple of cardboard boxes in her arms.

Dean was six years old, and he didn't know if he found her interesting, but she had nice teeth and she liked Sammy. She came to a stop right in front of Dean.

“I noticed your little brother's out growin' his clothes, and your daddy and uncle did somethin' 'bout my dad's ghost, so here. This is somma my old stuff. I figure maybe it'll fit him some, and maybe you can throw out the dresses an' somma the other stuff.” She shrugged and adjusted the boxes in her arms.

Bobby didn't even wait for Dean to say what he thought about that, just took the boxes and carried them across the street to his truck.

Missy kept looking at Dean with a funny look on her face, and Dean wished his dad would just hurry up already. It was time for Sammy's nap, and he'd keep Dean up all night if he had one any later. He didn't even know if Sammy'd be able to sleep in Uncle Bobby's truck. Dean pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth.

“What?” He blurted out. She just wouldn't look away.

“You got a bruise on your face and a couple on your arms that weren't there this mornin'.”

“So?” Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “What's your point?” He stubbornly stuck his hands in his pockets and played with the hole in his right one, already bored with this conversation and where he knew it was going.

“Jus'... my daddy used to do things. With his hands. That's what your bruises look like, is all.” Missy shrugged, her hands in her own pockets, her too big flannel shirt making her look like she was swimming in a pool of red and blue plaid. Dean wanted to laugh, but Bobby was on his way back over and he had the same look on his face that he had that afternoon once he saw the bruises.

“Dean. Go ahead and get in my truck. I'll get Sam.”

“I need to get his blankie out of the car, though.” Dean looked up at Bobby and Bobby just shook his head and smiled.

“I'll get it. His bottle and diaper bag, too, Dean. You go on ahead now.” His voice was soft and nice. Dean always liked that about Uncle Bobby. He was usually nice like that, unless he or Sammy had gotten into something they shouldn't've, or when he'd notice a new bruise on Dean. Then he went outside and there was yelling at the phone, and ice cream for a week for him and Sammy.

Dean loved it when Sammy had ice cream. He'd cover himself in it and he'd just laugh and laugh. Sammy had the best laugh in the whole world. He just lit up the room and then Dean knew everything would be okay.

Dean nodded and ignored Missy as he crossed the street and somehow managed the climb into Bobby's old, beat-up truck. She jogged up to him, though, and stuck her hand out so he couldn't close the door.

“Your uncle's nice.” She was looking down at her shoes, her hands back in her pockets. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the stuff for Sammy.” Dean figured he may as well thank her for it. Maybe then she'd go away.

“It's nothin'. Mostly girly stuff. I think there's somethin' in there he can use.” She looked up, finally, at Dean, that odd look of hers again. “You dress him, right?”

“That's nunya business.” Dean crossed his arms from where he was sitting on the big, worn seat, and just glared.

Missy laughed, not really like she was amused, but like she didn't know what else to do. “It's why I gave _you_ the stuff, silly. Figured you'd go through it, yanno?” She held out her left arm, yanked up the sleeve, and showed Dean a three inch long burn scar. “My daddy did this to me the night he died.” There was that weird look yet again. It was starting to make Dean uncomfortable. “Nobody knows how he died, just that he was burned.” Missy looked away again, pulled her sleeve down, and turned to walk away.

Dean took a deep breath and spoke just loud enough for her to hear, “He deserved it.”

She turned around. “Just like your dad does,” and ran toward the house before Dean could say anything.

Dean was six years-old, and Sammy was two, and they were going away to live with their Uncle Bobby, and maybe Dean blamed himself for a lot of the times his dad got mad and hit him. But he knew she was right.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The ride in Bobby's old truck was okay, but Sammy couldn't sleep and Dean was getting cranky, too. They needed to stop for baby food for Sammy, so Bobby decided to get a motel room for the night. They were only about a day away from Bobby's place, and he figured they could get back on the road tomorrow.

Bobby got a room with two beds that had a kitchenette for a little more money. The owner had a crib to borrow for Sammy, and Dean changed him and set him down for his nap. Once Sammy was sleeping peacefully, and he didn't have to worry anymore, Dean was considerably less grumpy. Bobby found endless amusement in this, but he didn't let it show.

Dean was sitting on the floor between the beds, his back against the crib, going through the boxes that Bobby had brought inside. He pulled on his bottom lip and sighed. It was all _girly_ stuff. Sure, it'd probably fit Sammy, but... Dean turned around a bit to look at his little brother. Sammy's thumb was sort of half in his mouth, half up his nose. It was funny, and Dean had to catch himself before he laughed out loud and woke him up.

“How's it going, Dean? Find anything good?” Bobby whispered from where he was nursing a mug of coffee in the kitchenette.

“It's mostly dresses.” Dean made a face. He pulled out a pair of purple sneakers and stuffed them under the crib for later.

“Anything else in there?” Dean could hear the laugh in his uncle's voice as he came over and knelt down on the floor in front of Dean with a grunt. Bobby fingered one of the flaps on the box that Dean wasn't looking through.

“Well... there's some socks and pants and stuff.” Dean shrugged.

“Not too girly, are they?”

“Uh...” Dean waved a pair of white socks with lace on them in front of Bobby's face. There were tiny pink roses sewn into the lace. “Pretty much everything's like this. There's some Disney stuff in here, but it's got like... the _girl_ mouse on it. And some princesses.”

Dean dug around a bit and found a few loose snap clips and a package of barrettes, which he stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Sammy absolutely pitched a fit if Dean tried to trim his hair. He knew why, but, until now, Dean didn't know of anything else to keep his hair out of his eyes. He just picked him up and carried him places so he wouldn't trip 'cause he couldn't see. People thought it was cute and didn't comment on it, but Dean knew Sammy needed to be able to walk on his own.

Bobby stood then and let out an amused laugh that he stifled behind his free hand. “Well, we've got to stop by the store and get him some baby food, so we may as well grab him some other stuff on the way.” He walked into the kitchenette and sat his coffee down on the counter before he turned back to Dean. “You're gonna need some stuff, too, kiddo.”

“What kind of stuff?” Dean was taking anything that wasn't a skirt or a dress out of the boxes and piling it together on the floor.

“You need new shoes for one thing,” Bobby pointed out.

Dean looked over at where he'd left his shoes by the door when they'd got in. The soles were starting to peel back, and there was duct tape on his right one where the lace had broken months ago. They were getting a bit tight at the toes, too.

Dean shrugged, “It's okay. They just need some more tape.” He went back to sorting.

Bobby sighed. “It's okay to spend money on things ya need, Dean. And you _need_ shoes.” He watched as Dean got up, took the clothes with him, and sat on the bed closest to Sammy's crib. Obviously the bed Dean had chosen for himself.

“Sammy needs stuff more than me, Uncle Bobby,” he whispered as he looked into the crib at his brother.

Bobby sniffed, “Well, I need you to have shoes for my own piece of mind, kid... Listen. I'll order us a pizza once he's up, and we can all go out, huh? We'll stop by the store and get him some food. Once we've all eaten, we'll get you some shoes, and while we're there, we'll get some more diapers for your brother. How's that sound?”

“Okay, I guess,” Dean shuffled his socked toes on the shaggy green carpet. He looked up at Bobby, “They're called 'pull-ups,' Uncle Bobby. He's too big for regular diapers.”

Bobby smiled indulgently and nodded. “You know more about it than I do.”

Sammy took that moment to wake up and start crying. Bobby started to take a step toward him, but stopped when he saw Dean had it.

“Shh, Sammy. I've got you.” Dean picked up his little brother and held him still with a hand behind his head. Sammy was getting big, and it couldn't have been too easy for Dean to be carrying him. “Shh.” He rocked Sammy back and forth until he quieted.

“He need changed, again?” Bobby asked.

Dean checked with a quick finger stuck up a leg of his diaper. “No. Probably another bad dream.” He pulled back to look at Sammy's face, and saw he looked miserable. Like his nap did nothing for him, just like his nighttime sleeps. Dean kissed his cheek and used a thumb to wipe some of his tears away. “It's okay, little Sammy. Your big bro has you.”

Dean sat Sammy on the bed and knelt on the floor next to him. He picked up each thing he'd found in the box that he thought Sammy could wear, and showed them to him, one at a time.

“See, Sammy? Look at all the stuff you can play with.” Dean smiled a little, and gently bumped the socks he'd found earlier against his brother's nose. That got him a sleepy giggle. “You wanna try 'em on?” Sammy sniffled and nodded and reached out for his brother's hand.

Dean let him have the socks to chew on while he got up and got him a tissue for his nose. Once Sammy had blown his nose, “Blow, Sammy,” Dean put his slightly soggy socks on his chubby little feet. Bobby watched, in no small amount of awe, how good Dean was with his brother.

“Let's get dressed to go eat, huh?” Dean thought about just putting him back in his dirty clothes, but he'd noticed a bit of a rash on his back when he'd changed him earlier for his nap, so he opted out of that. He had a white tee shirt in one hand, and a pair of maroon-colored, corduroy overalls with a little tan bear face on the front pocket, in the other.

“Hey, Uncle Bobby?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“You still have that cream stuff?” Dean couldn't say the name of it, but it always made itchy skin feel better.

Bobby went to the diaper bag and tossed Dean a tube of zinc oxide ointment. Dean rubbed a little bit on Sammy's back and put him in the overalls. He figured his baby skin didn't need a shirt rubbing against it, so he left the shirt on the bed. He grabbed the barely used purple sneakers, and helped Sammy put his feet in them while Bobby called for dine-in pizza.

When Bobby hung up, Sammy was giggling while he tried to catch the fingers Dean wiggled in front of his face. Dean was grinning and laughing back.

It was the first time in at least two weeks that Bobby had heard Dean laugh, and he knew it'd been longer than that that he actually had. Bobby shook his head and silently cursed John Winchester, not for the first time that day.

Dean let his brother catch his hand and Sammy promptly stuffed it in the chest pocket of his overalls.

“Dee! Mine!” Sammy giggled and started to hiccup. Dean picked him up and rubbed his back, trying to calm him down.

“Shh. Yes. Yours, Sammy. Don't get sick, please.” Dean shot a worried look at Bobby.

“It'll be all right, Dean. Kids get hiccups all the time. I'll get ya a towel, just in case.” Bobby knew about Sammy's tummy troubles. It was why he was still on softer baby food, and why, even with pull-ups, potty training wasn't working too well.

Sammy had calmed down by the time Bobby came out of the motel bathroom with a small hand towel, which he then draped over Dean's shoulder. Once Dean got Sammy settled over the towel, and once Sammy's thumb was firmly placed in his mouth, Dean carried him over to the door to wait for Bobby.

Their uncle smiled and shook his head. He grabbed Dean's beaten up shoes, and Sammy's diaper bag, and they all headed to the truck together.

 


End file.
